Familiarity
by Curiosity
Summary: A confrontation between two old enemies proves they're not as different as they once thought.


Familiarity

Some things never change...

"Go away! I'm not available for tutoring, you blithering idiots!" The persistent knocking on Severus Snape's door refused to desist. "This is your final warning! Don't make me do something I regret-" he trailed off as the knocking transformed into a pattern he seemed to recall. "All right, then, who is it?" He called guardedly. The pattern formed the knock recognizable to those of the Order of the Phoenix. _From the Old Crowd, are you?_ Severus shook his head in disbelief. Most of the others were on assignments right now, and the Headmaster surely had better things to do with his time than trudge down to the faculty quarters. Besides, Slytherins were suspicious creatures by nature, and enough spells and passwords were in place to keep out any ill-meaning student... "Well, how did you get down here? What's the password?" Severus nodded to himself in satisfaction. He'd surely caught the intruder now, and he was about to teach whoever it was a lesson they'd never forget in what happens when you invade your professor's peace and quiet.

"Serpensortia." Severus startled. He knew that voice. He jerked the door open forcefully and was confronted with the last person on earth he would ever have expected at his door. Then again, he supposed he was partially to blame, having been the one to make the invitation in the first place.

"Well. Isn't this a pleasant surprise. I didn't really expect you to come." Severus had the look of a predator sizing up an opponent. The man at the door had an equally steely gaze, leveled back at him as he spoke honestly, the curse of all Gryffindors.

"I didn't expect me to either."

"What changed your mind?"

"God only knows... I suppose I never could resist a good debate between old enemies." Severus gave a short, harsh bark that could be taken for a laugh. A slow, malicious smile snaked its way across his face, and he stepped back from the door, gesturing for the man to come in. 

"Well, don't stand there in the corridor all day- students will certainly wonder what their professor is doing consorting with the likes of you." His distaste was plain, etched across his face in a grimace.

"I could say the same of you." The man narrowed his eyes as he stepped through the threshold, one hand unconsciously going back to reassure himself of the presence of his pocketed wand. 

"Remind me why I am allowing you near me of my own free will again?" The movement was not lost on Severus, and he mentally noted the mannerism. This was not the same careless boy who had once roamed the halls of Hogwarts as a rather delinquent student with his band of co-conspirators. This was a wild animal in a cage.

"Well, I suppose the most logical reason would be that Voldemort's attacks are escalating to a full-scale war, and if we don't finish this now, one or both of us will most likely be dead before we're able to have another chance to explain ourselves. The reason that I suspect a bit closer to the truth is somewhat less... diplomatic, and I won't offend your delicate sensibilities by voicing my opinion." He had a haunted look that never quite left his eyes now, and the sarcasm carried in that remark had a biting undercurrent to it, another thing that had changed since his school days. Severus couldn't help but remark as he shut and latched the door,

"You're not the same enemy I once had. These past years have molded you ad infinitum."

"Yes, well, over twelve years spent in Hell can do that to a man. Let's skip the formalities and get down to what you so graciously bid me come for, shall we?"

"As you wish," Severus drawled, in complete discord with his clipped movements and precise manner. "Please, take a seat."

The man nodded his thanks and swept off his cloak, letting it crumple beside him as he sunk into a cushioned chair. Severus gaped at the red silk shirt and layered sheer black-and-gold pants that swished as he shifted in his seat. The man grinned humourlessly at him, waiting for the full effect to sink in before explaining himself. "You'll forgive me for indulging in a slight vanity, having so recently been allowed to rediscover it. This," he gestured at his attire, "was at the behest and magnanimous approval of a friend who introduced me to the wonders of individually-tailored Muggle clothing. The color scheme was my own whim, I'm afraid, with only nostalgia to blame." Severus was hard-pressed to decipher the quality of that comment, and whether or no he jested. He was rather more hard-pressed to care, being absorbed in the details of the vision he beheld. The boy had looked- rogueishly _attractive_ in Gryffindor's red with gold trim. The man was... Severus firmly forbade himself to even remotely consider finishing that line of thought.

His guest saved him from his traitorous mind when he commented wryly, "So I suppose this is the part where we exchange inane insults about each other's dignity, virility, physical flaws and dark pasts while sitting in ridiculously cushioned armchairs in front of a blazing hearth sipping herbal tea like two nancy-boys, instead of dueling to the death respectably, which Albus so specifically forbid. Shall I initiate the first thrust? As with all fencing, first to draw blood wins."

"Very well. Do begin."

"You know, there was a time when I would have been quite immature about all this... but I believe we have both changed since then," he said slowly. 

"Oh?" Severus arched an eyebrow.

"And so I've decided that I'm not going to call you an insufferable poncy git who washes his hair in axle grease-"

"I believe you're digressing."

"Am I?" He asked, not missing a beat. "-takes a sadistic pleasure in tormenting his students because Potions was a living hell for you and who is still resentful about a Limerick Hex put on him in 4th year during the time you had to transform into James Potter during a test using Polyjuice Potion but something was 'accidentally' slipped into it which meant that you spent two weeks as a Gryffindor who only spoke in lewd rhyme and who can't stand happiness of any shape or kind-" A hint of a smirk danced around his features, and Severus felt that he was taking an immense pleasure in this diatribe.

"I get the picture."

"-and who always walks about as if he has an enormous broom shoved up his-"

"That is quite enough out of you!" Severus snapped irritably. "For once in your life, try to behave in a manner appropriate to your age... a serious manner for a serious subject." His visitor's eyes glittered. 

"Hey! I'm the only one who gets to abuse that dead joke." Severus's look quelled him. "All right, all right." He spread his hands out in a gesture of surrender, then sighed, growing somehow less than he was before... older, more world-weary. The dark shadows in his eyes grew more prominent. Severus watched, transfixed, as he raked a hand through his hair. The man had such aristocratic fingers. They seemed, most days, to be the only thing that were echoes of his former life, one without the pain that haunted his every waking moment. "Look. We'll get through the pleasantries much more quickly if we try it my way. Then we can get down to the splendid accusations we both relish so much."

"And that would be?" 

"Word association. Example: I say, slimey dungeon-dwelling Slytherin snake, and you say obnoxious whinging Gryffindor git. And that takes care of the dignity. Now you go."

"Are you trying to be humourous? Because I will tell you right now, I adamantly refuse to subject myself to a level of stupidity equivalent to being blindsided by the Hogwarts Express-" The man raised his eyebrows incredulously.   
"Really. Whatever happened, might I ask, to the legendary blade-like tongue of Hogwarts' most acerbic Potions Master, able to hack through a student's self-esteem in a single biting remark? I was so looking forward to seeing for myself if the legends were true. I find it hard to believe that you don't have a few insults to fling at your most be-loathed old enemy."

"Asinine kamakaze malevolent mangy mutt." Severus gritted his teeth, feeling more than slightly silly. "Now if you're quite done with-" He was cut off by the resonating sound of clapping.

"Oh, bravo! Encore, mas! Impressive. I applaud you," his guest said sarcastically. "Surely you can do better than that. I've come to expect so much more from you."

"Thirty points from Gryffindor." Severus eyed him with grim humour.

"That really would have stung," he encouraged in a mellifluous voice, "had I still retained strong House loyalties and had you actually meant that. However, seeing as neither of us are Hogwarts students any longer, that was, perhaps, ineffectual."

"Better an ineffectual Hogwarts professor than an escaped convict." Severus narrowed his eyes at his old opponent, watching his reaction.

"Better that than a double-turncoat former Deatheater." He hissed the words, caressing them as his eyes spat curses. His neck tensed, making his low ponytail shake ever so slightly as his fingers sought purchase and clenched the overstuffed armchair with a grip stronger than the Hand of Glory.

"Better a Deatheater than a failed Secret-Keeper." He enunciated each word clearly, sending each devastating arrow rocketing. Each aimed true, making its mark in the heart of the man across from him. He flew from his chair, launching himself at Severus.

"HOW DARE YOU, YOU-" here he lapsed into a tirade of impressively colored and detailed curses spanning a variety of languages and insults as he throttled Severus... or at least, that was the plan. Unfortunately, he never quite got to the throttling part. 

"Black," sighed the Potions Master, resheathing his wand, "you really ought to warn me before you try something like that." Sirius, frozen by an _Immobulus _in the awkward position of lunging for someone's throat, watched as Severus undid the clasp of his work robes, the dark black material falling to the floor. It would have been Sirius's turn to gape, had he been able to move his face into a proper gaping expression. Severus looked strangely incomplete without his robe. He still cast a professional aura with his white buttondown shirt tucked into black dress pants. Sirius thought vaguely that Snape rather looked like an illusionist (a comparison that he would hardly find flattering, to be sure, though it rather amused Sirius) before he noted that the man was unbuttoning his shirt halfway and rolling up his sleeves. Severus noted the path his eyes took, and bared his teeth in an unsettling parody of a smile. "Well, I could hardly let you have the upper hand before I was prepared, now could I?" He cast a silencing spell on the room, looked around and nodded, moving fragile objects out of harm's reach. He then flicked his wand at Sirius and muttered something under his breath that Sirius surmised was an _Ennervate_, because he fell heavily to the ground without warning. His train of thought suddenly crashed to a grinding, painful halt when Severus interrupted, "Now you may begin." 

"Gladly, _Snivellus_," Sirius snarled, and threw himself at Snape. As they hurtled across the floor, struggling to get each other in a position of weakness, flailing out with fists, teeth, and feet, they never once took eyes off the other. 

"I hate you!"  
"I loathe you more than you could ever hate anyone, pitiful Gryffindor!"

"I doubt that! Don't tell me what I'm capable of!"  
"Well, I'm telling you! I should sic the Dementors on you and send you back to Azkaban!"  
"I'd Disapparate before you blinked!"

"You can't do that on school grounds!"

"Just watch me!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

Recklessly, abandoning all self-control, Sirius raged, "You killed Lily and James! You killed my best friend!" He swung a right hook at Snape, who dodged it and kneed him in the stomach. 

"You're out of your mind," Severus yelled back. "What are you talking about?" 

"That rat Peter reported to you, when you were both doormats for Voldemort!" Severus flinched at the name. "You took his information straight to that vile, foul-" He broke off as Snape suddenly stopped struggling and began to laugh. 

"You believe that??? Oh, this is too rich..." Sirius had his arm raised to punch Snape in the face, but he froze midway. 

"What do you mean?" He said quickly, mind racing. "Stop lying to me, I know it was you-"

"If you want to know the truth, go ahead," Severus told him benignly, still cackling ruefully. "Find out." He bared his chest to Sirius, whispering "Cast it. You know you'll never be content until you know for sure, and I know you'll never believe me of your own volition- no, you hate me too well for that." Sirius controlled the shaking of his hand as he drew out his wand slowly, eyebrows furrowed. Then, his cell phone rang. 

"Ruin the dramatic moment, why don't you," he grumbled, fishing it out of his pocket. "This had better be damn good. Hello?" Severus gave him a look. Sirius waved a hand at him to say, I'll be right with you. "Ah! Moony! No, no.... you'd never believe the half of it. Hmm? Wow. I'll remember that. No, old Beak-Nose and I are solving our differences. No, I'm not joking. I'll be right on it. Can I call you later? I'll try, but no promises. Okay. You too. Later!" He looked back at Snape. "He says, 'Oh. Carry on, then, and try not to damage too many major internal organs.'" He flashed Snape a feral grin. "Right. Where were we? Oh, yes. Veritas," he said quietly, and Severus was knocked off his feet, a sudden burst of golden light ripping out of his chest where his heart was.   
"Quickly," he said, droplets of sweat beading on his forehead. "It- hurts..."

"Right. Well, tell me then, if you didn't kill them, who did? What happened? Why shouldn't I blame you?"

"Peter bypassed me altogether that night- he went straight to Him. I had doubts prior to that night... Pettigrew sensed that, and I think he suspected I was no longer trustworthy. If I could have done anything to stop it, I would have. Not for you," he said harshly, at Sirius's look of disbelief and slowly changing expression- something was mending inside him. "I've always had a thing for lost causes. Maybe that's why I invited you here," he mused. "Anyway, I went straight to Dumbledore and expressed my loyalties after your arrest- you don't need to know any more than that. Now release me." Sirius did, and sunk back into an armchair, eyes closed against an emotion he had never wanted to feel for Snape. _This can't be right. A hatred spanning decades couldn't be dropped, or mended just because of words..._ or could it? He absently reached over to a tray of chocolate-dipped cookies and took a bite out of one, trying not to think about the ramifications of what he'd just heard. In Snape's defense, had he seen what Sirius was doing, he probably would have tried to stop him, but the truth spell takes a lot out of a person, and whether or not his guest was currently munching on one of his sleeping aides was far from the front of his mind at the moment. At least, it was until said guest remarked, yawning, 

"Interesting flavor, these cookies," and jogged his memory. Severus swore. 

"You weren't supposed to eat those," he said, sighing. "They're used for deep sleep... deep enough so I don't dream."

"Nightmares," Sirius nodded to himself. "I'm more familiar with those than I'd like to admit." He paused. "You know... we're more like each other than I thought." He paused again, as if the words were painful for him to say. "We were- when we were in school together, I was-"

"Cruel, thoughtless, imbecilic, embittered? Yes," he said softly. "So was I."Severus unconsciously rubbed his thumb across the place where the dark mark was branded onto his skin and winced at the dull throb that battered at him even now. He shouldn't have been so lucky- his mind should be gone by now. Sirius, eyelids closing, asked, 

"How do you resist it?" Snape gave him a look, like he wasn't quite sure if this was another form of torment the other man had composed to trick him. "I'm sorry," Sirius murmured, "I shouldn't have-"

"No... when it gets really bad, I consume hard alcohol in large quantities until I'm too drunk to lift a finger... then I pass out." 

"I had no idea..." He reached around to take down his ponytail so he could rest his head more comfortably, and his dark hair, the envy of so many girls at Hogwarts, fell in soft waves around his face. He looked gentler, less guarded in exhaustion, though the haunted look never quite left his features.

"No," Snape said flatly. "Of course not." 

"Azkaban was no picnic either..." His eyes were shut now, but he forced himself to stay conscious. This was important. "Look... I thought you should know: I'm... sorry-"

"Black?" A shadow of some lost emotion crossed his face, something like compassion. "Black?" It was no use. Soft snores were coming from the armchair. Snape sighed. It looked as though his visit would be extended somewhat.

*~*~*~

Sirius groaned quietly and rubbed his eyes, the crick in his neck demanding attention. His stomach warred with it for dominance, demanding something substantial for breakfast, and he was almost positive that despite the odd positions in which he found himself upon awakening, upright in a sitting position was not one of them. A sound vaguely like running water from a shower crept into his ears. He cautiously peeled one eye open and assessed his situation. The decor was in subdued greens and silvers, with numerous pieces of elegant antiques lining the shelves on the wall. He frowned, staring at the door, which was bolted and padlocked with more than seven deadbolts, chains and keypads. This reminded him of the old days when James, Lupin and he had tried to start a band and he'd get stoned out of his mind after a concert only to wake up in some stranger's flat laying on the floor with a whip, shaving cream and two plucked chickens next to him... _man, those were good times_. _Wait_- his brain got around to processing his surroundings, and he twigged, sifting through memories of the previous night. "Why, God? Why does everything always happen to me?"

"Well, I can't answer the ultimate questions of the universe for you, but if you'll allow me to offer you breakfast-" a dry, amused voice came from behind him. Sirius craned his neck around to look, which made a gratifying cracking sound, and came face to face with Snape, who was toweling his- _fluffy?- _damp hair. He seemed to be wearing a tight black teeshirt and jeans with the knees torn out. 

"Evidently, the last twelve years of my life have been a delusion and I'm still in someone's apartment coming around from a hangover." 

"No such luck, Sirius." His name on the other man's tongue sounds strange and hesitant... and remarkably beautiful. 

"Who are you and what did you do with Severus Snape?" he wondered, as the man hummed along with Sting to "It's probably me". 

::You're not the easiest person I ever got to know. And it's hard for us both to let our feelings show.:: 

__

It could be worse, he thought darkly to himself. _It could be techno. Remus Lupin, I swear I will never forgive you for that! _He tried to get out of the chair and walk to the kitchenette, where a splendid array of food was spread, and quickly discovered that his motor skills weren't obeying him as well as he'd like. How embarassing. 

::Some would say I should let you go your way you'll only make me cry.:: 

"Ah. The aides do tend to leave one rather weakened," the Severus clone (for that was what Sirius stubbornly thought of him as) said genially, taking his arm and steering him slowly toward the table. "But if there's one guy, just one guy... who would lay down his life for you and die," Snape sang along, answering Sirius's incredulous look with a, "What? This is the good part" look. Sirius sighed. When in Rome, or, in this case, when in a madhouse... 

"It's hard to say it. I hate to say it. But it's probably me," he conceded musically, then blanched, realizing what he'd just sung. He turned even whiter when, recalling the events of the past 24 hours, he found a little nagging voice in the back of his head wondering if it might not be true. "Arrgh." He grabbed the nearest thing to him and began bashing his head against it.   
"May I ask if the poor French bread has offended you in some manner?" Sirius looked up and saw Snape's mouth twitching in what might be humor. 

"I have flour all over my forehead, don't I?" Severus nodded, concealing a smile. "This just isn't my day." He broke off a chunk of bread and buttered it furiously, biting into it with relish. The other man smiled, and followed his example. In mere minutes, the food was demolished, and Sirius sat back feeling blissfully content. "Is this what you're normally like on your days off?" He asked with profound curiosity.

"It would appear so. As hard to believe as it may seem, I am not in actuality demonspawn, nor do I reject all things Muggle. Every so often, they come up with a good idea or two." His mouth quirked wryly.

"Agreed, and thank you," Sirius said lazily, remembering his breeding. "It was a great pleasure."   
"Mmhmm." Snape was looking at him oddly. 

"No, I mean it. Breakfast was great. Couldn't have asked for better," he gestured expansively, and in doing so dropped his fork. He frowned and leaned down to pick it up- and encountered another hand. His pulse sped up unreasonably. _It's just a fork, you canine idiot._ He turned his head up and found himself inches from Snape's... lips. _Now, why did I go thinking that, of all things? _His mind demanded furiously, as he tried to restrain his body from moving forward and closing the distance. He held a conference with himself as he struggled to maintain control over his instincts. _This is wrong! You always thought Remus was good-looking. Yes, but that was different. How? I'm not gay! I'm a full-fledged skirt chaser! Are you? Well... Does it matter? But, but... But It's SNAPE_! His mind pointed out, as some illogical part of him answered softly, _Yes. Yes it is._ If he was waiting on the other man to save him, he was doomed. Severus seemed just as transfixed by Sirius as he felt. Sirius shook his head and broke gazes, falling back on his rear and laughing awkwardly. _That was too close,_ he scolded his animal nature. Backing up a safe distance, he tried to initiate conversation. That was human. That was civilized. 

"Ha. Ha. So... erm..." Snape was clutching the fork like a lifeline, so tightly that Sirius could see every blood vessel and tendon and the man's white knuckles. "That is," he tried again, "well, you don't hate me anymore... and I don't hate you... and we're practically a bloody carnival of not-hating-ness..." His mouth went dry. He felt his cheeks burning. Good lord, was he blushing? Snape's tongue darted out and licked his dry lips, puffing shallow breaths, and Sirius closed his eyes to ward against the sight. _That can't be because of me..._ The question he was intending to ask and the one that came out were nothing like each other. "Severus?"Quietly, like a prayer.

"Yes?" Reverent, not daring to move in case it all shattered and broke.

"Where do we go from here?" Traitor mouth. Now all his body parts were turning on him. 

"You know something," Snape replied with a tired but genuine grin, "I haven't the foggiest."

"Ah. Well, care for a friendly game of one-on-one Quidditch? Broomsticks courtesy of Hogwarts and that blessed easy-to-pick storage closet?" Well, his competitive instincts couldn't exactly just magic themselves away, could they? At least he was trying to be more constructive. A familiar gleam lit the other man's eyes. 

"You're on."

*~*~*~

Of course, as it would turn out, there was very little time for them to go anywhere. It is, perhaps, not for us to know if Sirius yielded to his instincts, or if the students commented on late-night rendezvous between their professor and the ex-convict. It should, however, be borne in mind that even Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft's most odious Potions master has a heart just as prone to breaking as anyone else's, or perhaps even more so. Maybe the song is right, that "you don't know what love is"... It should be noted that if Professor Snape was harsher on Gryffindor students than ever after Sirius fell beyond the veil, perhaps it was his way of mourning in retaliation against a House that only seemed to cause him pain. Perhaps. Of course, I could be wrong. That's not for me to judge; my intent is fulfilled in telling of that fateful night that so few knew of... until now.

-Fin-


End file.
